Quartz and Ruby
by Wrath Flamesoul
Summary: This was supposed to be an assassination. Everyone is counting on you to end his life tonight, so why can't you bring yourself to do it?


**Disclaimer: **Kishimoto-senpai owns Naruto. Fortunately, he's drunk on eggnog – through _no _fault of my own, of course *hides empty eggnog carton behind back* - and signed a release paper for me. I now own the rights to Naruto. _NEEEEEJIIII~!_

**Quartz and Ruby**

**

* * *

**

It isn't right. It shouldn't feel right. But then, right now you don't really care, do you?

Is it because of his hands going through your hair? His mouth on yours? Or is it simply that somewhere inside, you've known you wanted this for some time now?

This was supposed to be an assassination – you all agreed on that, didn't you? The remnants of that stupid little "Konoha Twelve" group that you never really wanted to be part of all gathered and decided it had to end, didn't they? Even you said it was for the best.

Didn't you? Didn't you say you thought it was better if he was dead? Didn't you say that, callous even while some of your "friends" cried over it?

So why is it that you're suddenly attacking him in a much different way than you had all planned? How are your hands going through his hair; how are your nails scraping along his back?

How is it that your fingertips – capable of causing such massive internal damage – are now running in odd, haphazard patterns along his flesh, never once releasing an ounce of those lethal attacks into his body? Aren't you supposed to be the one who carries out his orders without letting those pesky emotions get in the way?

Oh, right, wrong word. This isn't an emotional thing, right? You're just getting him to let his guard down. Trying to get those impressive muscles in his arms and back to loosen just enough to tell you he trusts you now, right?

Because that's the only story they'll believe if any of them finds this. They won't believe that you did this out of _need _– and truly, do you even want them to believe that? Do you believe it?

His mouth goes farther down now, to your throat. If it was anyone else, you would react differently, wouldn't you? You would push anyone else away if your throat was involved, but now?

Now you throw your head back as far as the pillows allow you to, exposing as much of your throat as possible and ignoring the surprised chuckle he lets out. He didn't expect you to react so strongly; though, to be fair, you didn't expect such a reaction, either.

Now is everything clear to that stubborn mind of yours? Can those "all-seeing" eyes of yours see the truth now?

You don't just enjoy this – you _crave _it, don't you? Even with all those ties to the people you're supposed to be loyal to, in the end, this isn't a trick, and you aren't waiting for him to let his guard down. You're doing this because your body _demands _it.

Or is it something even deeper than primal instinct?

You can tell he's going to leave marks on your skin – he's sucking on your flesh hard enough that your neck will be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don't really care, do you? All you can focus on is the feel of his teeth against your throat, the hot breath that comes gasping out onto your skin in random intervals that should be your cue to kill him.

And, for a moment, you almost remember your duty. Your hand slides up to his chest… but nothing happens. He tenses, ready to act according to your next move, but you can't bring yourself to do it, can you? You're already too deeply involved in this to want it to end.

You're already following your instincts, bowing to that deeply-buried lust you have for him, and so you can't do anything to hurt him now, can you? You made a mistake by letting him touch you this way, and now you can't do what your "friends" expect you to, can you?

After a moment, he comes to the same realization; shouldn't his quiet laughter be enough to enrage you? Didn't you use to loathe his smug superiority? So why does that mocking chuckle, in your ear, against your skin, suddenly make you want him even more?

Because by now you're practically _begging _him to hurry; not literally, of course, because your pride would never allow that, but aren't the moans and gasps that keep seething out from between your teeth enough to be considered begging all the same? He certainly seems to think so, not that he's actually _listening _to you. His only response is a chuckle that sounds very close to an animalistic growl, as if he's telling you to shut up and take it.

As if you can help it, right? As if you can honestly control yourself when he's pushing you to an insanity you didn't even know existed until now. Who knew he could be so good at dragging out the deepest secrets in a person – even the ones so deeply buried that not even the one hiding them knows what exactly they are?

His hands and mouth are moving lower again; now he's nipping at your collarbone, and his hands reach under your back and neck, holding you tightly, as if he thinks you can even _consider _running away at this point. Your fingernails start to draw blood from his shoulders and back as the ecstasy starts to take over your motor skills, and for a moment, you can see why he told you earlier that he enjoys the red shade of blood.

Earlier… when you first confronted him, did you know this would be the end result? Did you anticipate this moment of painful arousal, this torturous waiting for that one all too quick moment of pure bliss that would turn the whole world white?

When you caught him off guard – a feat in itself, truly – did you feel this same need then? Could you have brought yourself to kill him, perhaps, if he hadn't smirked at you in that damned inviting way of his? If he hadn't displayed a tiny hint of the same need you both very obviously submit to now?

But it was too late, even then, to try to do what was expected of you. He had already halted your attack before it could even begin.

And when he sauntered over to you, with that damn smirk still on his lips, you couldn't move – you blamed a paralysis jutsu, didn't you? You didn't want to admit to yourself that you let him approach you because your instincts had already taken over. Because that _need _had taken over.

It's amazing, isn't it, how little time it took to strip down once the door was locked. Once you were alone in this cheap hotel room he had checked into during his run from you and the others, it was as though nothing waited for you outside, wasn't it? It still seems that way, doesn't it?

His tongue flicks at one of your nipples now, and he isn't surprised this time when you react beyond what most would even think you're capable of. His blood rolls down your fingers as your nails jab sharply into his flesh, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. His hands go lower again, down to your ass, and you buck your hips, almost _demanding _that he stop toying with you.

Is it simply because you were never touched like this before? No, it isn't that no one ever touched you like this – you simply didn't _allow _anyone to touch you like this. Were you saving yourself for him? Did you somehow hope that this very moment was coming? If you did, did it never occur to you that while he was with that bastard pedophile – and even he had to know that was the sort of man he was betraying you for – he might have had this happen thousands of times? Or do you still think all this talent for making you desperate was natural, if he's as untouched as you wish he was?

How many times do you think he's begged for it to be over, so he could wash himself of every horrible thing that monster must have done to him? How many times do you think his thoughts wandered somewhere else while he pretended to enjoy what was being done to his body? How many hours do you suppose he spent holed up inside himself, waiting out the things the monster murmured in his ear?

He moans your name against the flesh of your stomach, and the raw need in his voice and your body sends fire coursing through your veins as you moan his name in response. Do you honestly think he doesn't want this just as badly? Do you think that this is the first time his thoughts were focused solely on you while his body was wracked with this sort of building tension?

You know he might just be doing this to feel dominant for once, don't you? You realize that he might just be using you to get rid of that last feeling of weakness left in him after what that sadistic bastard did. Does it bother you that for once, you aren't in control? Does it feel wrong to know you're the submissive one now, the one who should be openly begging and squirming under his touch?

No, of course not. You want this badly enough that you're willing to be submissive.

Because it's all for him, too, isn't it? This isn't just instinct, is it? That your body wants this as badly as it does is only a bonus. You don't really want him dead, do you? That was just the excuse you used to get close enough to him – and far enough away from the others – to have this happen, wasn't it?

His hands are pulling off the last shred of clothing you left on; the sight of your boxers falling off the edge of this cheap bed is a powerful aphrodisiac, isn't it? That's how close you are to being able to share that moment of total satisfaction with him.

His deep ruby eyes hold yours as he licks your shaft, sending waves of pleasure through you. You throw your head back again and clutch at the sandpaper-soft sheets as your back arches off the mattress. Did you think those stories you heard – and read, admit it – were exaggerating? Is that why you're surprised at how good and _right _this feels?

He takes your entire length into his mouth, again and again, and you can feel the first flickers of that desperately-needed white blaze start to lick at your body, even while you moan his name over and over, almost as though it's the only word you remember how to pronounce anymore. His reverberating chuckle causes quite an interesting reaction in you, doesn't it? Who knew that infuriating show of superiority could be so sensual, under the right circumstances?

Before you can peak, he stops, and you have to fight the urge to scream at him before you realize he's changing positions. You realize what he's doing before he even orders you to take advantage of the fact that his ass is suddenly in front of your face.

He tastes better than you expected, doesn't he? Even after every time the snake man must have done this to him, he's still willing to let you take an active role, instead of just forcing you to lay still and take what he's doing to you without resisting. You know what that has to mean, right? You know if he was just using you, he would never let you do this to him. Your hands wouldn't be free to grab his cheeks and spread them, and you sure as hell wouldn't be able to rim him.

If he was merely using you, your hands and feet would be tied to the four posts of the bed by now, and there would be no chance of him turning his back to you as he does now.

Do you suppose he'll care that you're leaving bite marks when the pleasure is too hard to handle? Do you suppose the pain when he sits or lies down after this will be irritating? No more irritating than the bruises on your neck will be when your teammates ask about them, surely. Will you lie, and say it was for the good of a mission that you lowered your standards to get important information? Or perhaps you'll resort to filching perfume from one of your cousins to hide the bruises entirely. Maybe you should call in sick?

He's starting to nip at your member now, and the moans coming from your throat and his are almost identical in their urgency. He suddenly rolls off to the side and switches positions again, so that he's hovering over you like before. You know what's coming, don't you? You know this means you give up every shred of pride before him from now on, but you don't rally care, right?

He leans down and starts nipping at your throat and shoulder, then slams into you with such force that you scream against his hair before your body has time to react at all. He pulls almost entirely out and rams into you again, and again, and again, each thrust bringing less pain and more pleasure as he begins to moan again. The feel of his skin pulsing above your length is enough keep you going, too, and the world suddenly explodes into white flames as that moment you've both been waiting for finally erupts.

It's better than you'd hoped, isn't it? The flames devour everything, even feeling, and for one moment the two of you are lost in an endless expanse of white. The only sounds here are your screams as you cry out each other's names. Every muscle in your body – and in his, too – tenses as the fire shoots into your blood.

This is bliss, isn't it? This is what truly makes lust just as enjoyable as love, but there's something more behind this than simple lust, isn't there? As he collapses on top of you, your blood coloring his lips, you don't feel any spite or sense of duty anymore, do you? He's weak now, vulnerable, but you still won't finish the job and kill him, will you?

You know what this means, don't you? You can't go back to Konoha if you don't kill him. It's been long and loud enough now that if he isn't dead in the morning, your teammates will know what went on in this cheap hotel room. They'll know you helped him – they'll accuse you of betraying them, and even if they go easy on you, things won't ever be the same again, will they?

Do you really think that stupid pink-haired ditz and her blonde "teammate" will forgive you for even _looking _at him without his clothes on?

So which is it, genius? Do you want to go home again? Or do you want to stay with the man you love – even if you'll never admit that's what you feel for him?

You carefully move so that you can pull that disputably filthy blanket over your bodies, and within moments, the exhaustion takes hold. You sleep deeply for the first time in years, peaceful despite the fact that you've changed your life forever.

Because you've always wanted this… haven't you?

* * *

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas, assholes! Nah, I'm just kidding, you guys are all right. X3**

**Because there's such a disgustingly poor selection of NejiSasu stories out there, I decided to write one of my own as sort of an early Christmas present to you guys. Come on, admit it, you wish there was more NejiSasu love on the interwebz, too.**

**And to those of you who were hoping for another chapter of "Through Fire and Shadow", don't worry; I'm about halfway done with the next chapter. It'll be up sometime during Christmas break, if not sooner. In the meantime, enjoy the NejiSasu goodness.**


End file.
